


Baby, We Were Born to Run

by sweetondean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24505084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetondean/pseuds/sweetondean
Summary: This story is set about a year before the show. Before John disappeared. Sam had left to go to College, and Dean is on his way back from a hunt on his own.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Other(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Baby, We Were Born to Run

Music boomed out of the speakers causing the wrapper from his lunchtime burger to bounce up and down on the dash where he’d tossed it. He hummed along, happily drumming out the beat on the steering wheel. The driver’s side window was down and the breeze was ruffling his light brown hair. It had grown so much over the last two weeks that it was starting to curl over his ears. He knew his old man would tell him it needed cutting, but Dean kind of liked it. A little longer. A little less military. More him. A little wild.

He hollered out the words of the song he knew so well; the song he must have listened to a thousand times…

_“Sprung from cages on Highway 9_   
_Chrome wheeled, fuel injected, and steppin' out over the line_   
_Ohhhhh_   
_Baby this town rips the bones from your back_   
_It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap_   
_We gotta get out while we're young_   
_'Cause tramps like us, baby, we were born to run.”_

That’s how he felt. Like he was born to run. Run from everything. Everything he knew. Everything he was. Everything he was expected to be.

Just run. Him and Baby.

He let his fingers caress the leather of the seat beside him. “You hear that, Baby? You and me, we’re born to run, right?”

Dean Winchester loved the feeling he got when he drove his dad’s car. His car now. His Baby. She always made him feel special. Like she was created just for him. Crafted out of steel and leather just for Dean. To guide him down the rambling back highways of America. They took care of each other. Kept each other safe.

He wished they could keep driving. Him and Baby. Just go and keep on going. Stopping wherever they wanted. Dean could pick up work, make a few bucks, and then they’d move on. Since Sam had left, the thought of taking off and never looking back had crossed Dean’s mind more than once. No roots. No responsibilities. Just time. Freedom and time. He put his foot down and heard Baby’s engine growl as if that’s what she wanted as well.

_“1, 2, 3, 4_   
_The highway's jammed with broken heroes_   
_On a last chance power drive_   
_Everybody's out on the run tonight_   
_But there's no place left to hide.”_

This was Dean’s last chance power drive. At least for now. The job was done. He had no excuse to stay on the road. _“Maybe I can drag it out one more night,”_ he thought. _“Stop in the next town. Have a few beers. Shoot some pool. Maybe meet a pretty girl. Knock boots...”_ A grin spread wide across his face. The pull of the highway lay before him. Beckoning him and Baby. Yeah. He could make the job last one more night.

_“Tramps like us. Baby, we were born to run”_

When he felt his phone ringing in his pocket, his heart sank.

Dean quickly turned the radio down, wound up the window and pulled out his cell. He subconsciously sat up a little straighter as he flipped it open and said, “Dad?”

“Where are you?” he heard his father say on the other end.

“On the road, somewhere near…” he peered out the window. “I don’t know. A couple of hours out from you I guess.”

“Is the job done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Well get your ass back here. We head out in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean said. “See you…” But his father hung up before Dean could finish.

Dean snapped his phone closed and tossed it onto the seat. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he ran his fingers through his hair and thought he better stop for a trim before he saw the old man.

As his good mood drained away, he watched the world going by. The one he never really felt a part of. There was no escaping the life. No place to hide. Not even for a night. He was stupid to think there could be.

He turned the music up.

_Someday, girl, I don't know when_   
_We're gonna get to that place_   
_Where we really wanna go and we'll walk in the sun_   
_But 'til then, tramps like us_   
_Baby, we were born to run_

“Someday, Baby,” Dean said. “Someday.”

-FIN-


End file.
